Into the Fire
by whitelips paleface
Summary: When Carlisle finds Esme's body in the morgue that fateful night in 1921, there was no doubt of what he wanted to do. However, many thoughts plagued his mind the moments leading to her transformation.


**Perhaps I'll create a playlist of all the songs I listen to when I'm writing these stories, at least for Hold on to Me and Here with Me. Even include all the songs I envision playing in a specific scene if it were playing in a movie. **

**With that said, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd listen to Erin McCarley's cover of **_**Into the Fire **_**while listening to this song as it greatly influenced the concept of this one-shot. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the rightful owner of Twilight.**

**~.~.~**

The wind was blowing hard that evening, the waves just as ferocious as the wind blowing the woman's gown. She took a shaky breath, her footfalls also as unsettled. The moon above her head was full and bright, lighting the path to the edge of the cliff. Although she was barefoot, she couldn't feel the pebbles pressing into the palm of her foot; I_ was always barefoot, _she thought.

The events that put her in this particular predicament rushed through her head — holding her baby boy for what seemed to be nothing, to them telling her that he had passed away to lung fever. The world was a blur those days that she was still in the hospital, and when she was the only one in attendance at her baby's funeral. As she stood at the edge of the cliff, she felt her heart palpitating hard in her chest.

Everything happened so fast as if the wind had picked up an absurd amount and if the earth around her suddenly flooded with scalding cold water that shoved her around and onto sharp rocks. Letting out the breath she was holding in; she stopped fighting.

It was conceivable that Esme wasn't worthy of happiness and love in her eyes. This ending was her end, and she couldn't complain.

_The lights are dimmer._

**~.~.~**

It was an uneventful day at the hospital that fateful day. He was collecting his belongings, placing his necessities into his leather medical bag; it always paid to be prepared, the blonde doctor thought.

Before he exited his private quarters, a frantic nurse swung the door open, carrying a clipboard close to her chest. "Doctor Cullen, you're needed in the morgue," she breathed out, catching her breath. The way her heart was racing, and small beads of sweat were forming on her forehead; it must be urgent.

The way down to the morgue was one Carlisle didn't particularly enjoy. He matched her hastened pace, as fast as he could without giving it away that he was a vampire. It was an eery walk down the hall, as it was a dimmer hallway, and it was a lot colder than the rest of the hospital.

"What happened?" his English accent hardly noticeable at this point, taking the chart from the nurse.

As Carlisle flipped through the chart, there were multiple lesions to the head and the rest of the body and fractured bones. There were too many for it to be an automobile accident or even a slip down the stairs. "They found her body washed up on the shore, seemed to be a suicide. Poor thing, she seems to be so young," the nurse sighed, closing the door behind her as she exited the morgue.

There was a small flutter coming from within the body bag, so he listened carefully. Perhaps it was just his imagination, or it was the footsteps coming from outside, but as he got closer, he could barely hear the same flutter of a heartbeat. Of course, the human ear wouldn't be able to detect it; it was barely even there.

Reaching over to the top of the sheet, he pulled it down to be able to see her face. Time froze when he saw her face. It couldn't be. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he stared longer at her face. Those curls that he has had engraved in his brain for years were the biggest giveaway that it was her. Carlisle finally noticed her scent, it was a lot more prominent than when it was ten years ago, and it still enticed him despite being masked by seawater.

_He watched as she bit down on her lips and clenched her tiny fists as he tended to her leg. A few rogue leaves were still in her curly hair, result from falling down the tree on her farm. Her scent was intoxicating, and it was making it hard to concentrate at this point. Never has he ever encountered something as enticing as to the smell that she owned. It didn't help that she was breathtakingly beautiful at only sixteen. _

_"Almost done, Miss. Platt," Carlisle mumbled and gave her a sympathetic smile, their eyes meeting. Those big brown eyes were swollen and teary-eyed. _

_"Esme," the sixteen-year-old corrected him, the corner of her lip turning up into a smile. It was the first time she smiled since she had her fall. "Don't call me, Miss. Platt, please," she huffed, leaning over to look at the cast that now was close to being finished. There was a beat of silence before she let out a small giggle. _

_Carlisle chuckled lightly and snipped off the final piece of the bandage, gently placing the scissors on the metal tray next to her bed. "Then you must call me Carlisle," he paused, smiling to himself as he heard her heartbeat quicken, "Esme." _

_Esme. _

Esme still has a chance, he thought to himself. He missed her once he couldn't lose her again. So, he did the inconceivable and wrapped her limp body in the sheets and took her the back way to his automobile, making sure no one was around.

The ride to his house was a quiet one. There were no other vehicles on the road at this time at night, for that he was grateful. He was astonished by what he did. Was he going to do this once more? Take another body from the hospital and change them? However, he was on a race against the clock to get to save her on time. The next thing he had to endure was Edward's scolding.

As the vehicle came to a halt in front of his shared home with Edward, he sighed in relief. Carlisle gently scooped up the lifeless body that was once an exuberant and full of promise in his arms. Edward met him at the door before Carlisle could open it, with a bemused expression on his young face.

"Carlisle," Edward whispered out, watching as Carlisle ran up the flight of stairs and followed hot on his heels, "what the hell?" he sneered through his teeth.

The world around Carlisle was a blur; his focus was solely on the battered woman he was convinced was his singer and perhaps his mate. All that mattered to him now was to save her in time. "Edward, please," Carlisle turned to look at him, Edward standing at the doorway as he watched Carlisle situate her on the bed.

"You can't do this, Carlisle!" Edward all but yelled at the man who, in his eyes, damned him to this life. "You damned one too many people already!"

"Edward! Son, please!" he begged, his eyes low and sorrowful. Edwards's face softened as he read his mind, images rushing his head of the one encounter that plagued Carlisle's mind twenty-four seven for the three years he's been with him.

Carlisle's memories of her were on a constant loop; anything triggered even the smallest recollection of that evening flooding his mind. At this point, Edward was convinced that he too lived that encounter by how many times he's seen it.

"It's her," Edward whispered, pivoting on his right foot and exited the room.

Carlisle sighed and brushed her hair back, her bloody curly hair. The piano playing in the downstairs family room was playing loud and slow. He took her small hands in his and pressed his forehead to their intertwined hands, saying a short prayer in his head.

Esme's heartbeat began to diminish while the bright piano tone only greatened. Carlisle squeezed her hands a little bit tighter and gently pressed his lips to the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Carlisle squeezed his eye shut as his teeth perforated her flesh, her sweet blood oozing into his mouth. He resisted swallowing every drop; however, he stopped himself. The bloodlust got to him, and he went in again, losing himself for a moment before he came to his senses.

Carlisle leaned back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, residual blood staining his hand. He watched as she thrashed in unbelievable pain, he assumed.

Now, all he had to was wait for her to wake up.

**I know there are many stories and one-shots of Carlisle finding and turning Esme, however, I thought I'd write my take on the fateful encounter in this one-shot. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed it!**


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